


A focused moment made

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Kink!verse [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Blow Jobs, Flogging, Hair-pulling, Kink Negotiation, M/M, POV David Rose, Patrick Brewer: Service Top, Porn with burgeoning feelings, Praise Kink, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sex Club, kink club, porn with (some) plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24468184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: David has an itch he needs scratched.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Kink!verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768552
Comments: 86
Kudos: 363





	A focused moment made

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whetherwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/gifts).



> Whetherwoman said in passing in the Rosebudd, “You know what I want? I want sub David going to a club in Toronto to get his fix of being being whipped and told he’s a good boy, and finding brand new babydom Patrick, who has never done this before but DAMN does he want to put David on his knees.” And that is basically all my buttons wrapped into one, so here we are. I hope it worked for you! Thank you to all my discord peeps for the cheerleading and flailing, you made writing this a delight ❤️
> 
> And if you're using this for kink research purposes, I'm not sure what to tell you except... please don't. Or at least look at WAY more sources than this smut before using a flogger on another human being.
> 
> Title is from Good With Grenades.

David has an itch he needs scratched.

If he hasn’t managed to scratch it properly since coming to Schitt’s Creek, he’s at least been able to keep it at bay. Stevie would rake her nails into his skin, was almost alarmingly happy to smack him around a little; Jake slammed him into walls, would readily manhandle him into a new place or position. None of that was enough, but it was something. But David and Stevie flamed out, of course, and then the whole awkward Jake situation blew up in their faces. Shockingly, there isn’t exactly a booming local kink scene and the itch is building under his skin, becoming unbearable. 

However, David is now a man of (limited) means thanks to Blouse Barn Australia. Which is how he finds himself at a sex club in Toronto on a Sunday evening, having by some miracle negotiated the use of the family car overnight while avoiding disclosing what he needs it for, and just a smidgen taken out of his savings for a hotel near the club. The box of toys and equipment he keeps hidden in the back of the closet in a bag so ugly even Alexis won’t look at it came with him, thrown in one of the club lockers while David sips a whiskey in the lounge and eyes up the other people in the room. 

Pickings are slim. It’s mostly couples eager to be watched, and David has to politely fend off two separate requests to join a threesome. Any other night he’d be down, but he doesn’t want to get distracted from what he came here for. 

He brings his glass back up to his lips before he realises it’s empty, and he heads back out to the bar for a refill. He waits while a man accepts a beer from the bartender before he turns around and meets David’s eyes; David sees his mouth open slightly, and there’s a hesitation before he steps to the side rather than walking away. David smirks and asks for another whiskey before he leans one arm on the bar, blatantly letting his eyes sweep over the guy. 

There’s nothing particularly eye-catching about him. He stands a few inches shorter than David, with warm brown eyes and a wide smile. He’s wearing Wranglers, of all things, and a grey button-up shirt; his muscles are straining the buttons just a little, and the sleeves can’t decide whether they’re short or long but they do show off a nice set of arms. He’s a sucker for a nice set of arms. The overall look really shouldn’t work, and David’s honestly a little mad that it’s doing something for him. 

The guy looks  _ nice; _ he probably coaches Little League and helps old ladies carry their shopping. But David’s good at reading these things, and… there’s definitely a vibe there. He’s probably straight, but for what David needs tonight that’s not necessarily a dealbreaker; it doesn’t have to actually involve sex and it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s given it to him and left him to get himself off after. And if this happens to be one of those straight guys who’s happy to take a blowjob from any willing mouth — well, as long as he’s not a jerk about it afterwards, David can absolutely work with that. 

He lets a lascivious smile slide onto his face. “I’m David,” he says, holding out a hand. 

“Patrick.” And then a warm, calloused hand is encasing his in a firm grip that, if David isn’t imagining things, lasts just a moment longer than usual before letting go. 

“Should we take a seat?”

Patrick glances around. “Can we grab one of the seats in here rather than going through? The lounge was a bit…”

“Mm-hmm, yeah, yep, let’s do that,” David says quickly. He waits until they’re settled in the mismatched armchairs to ask, “So how many threesomes did you get invited to?”

Patrick snorts. “And there was me thinking I was special,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re breaking my heart here, David.”

“Mm, that is what everyone says about me,” he jokes, and is surprised when Patrick tilts his head rather than laughing as David expected. 

“I bet,” Patrick says, something in his eyes David can’t place. 

David clears his throat. “So tell me, Patrick,” he says lightly, “what’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?” 

Patrick does laugh out loud at that. “You think I’m a nice boy?”

“I hope not,” David answers honestly before he can stop himself. Patrick just looks at him for a moment with a small smile, eyes searching his face, before he takes a swig of his beer. 

“I just ended a relationship,” he says, and David blinks at the non-sequitur before he realises Patrick is answering his question. “We were together a long time, on and off, and it never really felt like it fit with her. But this was the part that felt  _ closest _ to fitting, you know?”

“Yeah,” David says, and it’s true. Patrick has basically just described every relationship he’s had that lasted longer than a week, but he’s not going to say that. “Lots of bad relationships get dragged out by good sex.”

“Not just sex,” Patrick clarifies quickly.  _ “This. _ The, uh, BDSM stuff. That was the only part of our relationship that felt easy. So I thought… maybe I should explore that more, see if I could figure out why the rest of it never felt right.”

“Hmm,” David says, taking a sip of his whiskey. “And have you? Figured it out?”

“You know,” Patrick says slowly, “I’m starting to get an inkling.” His eyes are on David’s lips and David swallows hard. 

“Good,” he says faintly. 

“And what about you?” Patrick asks, smiling slightly. “What brings you to this fine establishment?”

David raises an eyebrow. “I needed a good beating,” he says baldly, and Patrick chokes on his beer. 

“Well, that’s — clear,” he manages after a moment, and David can’t help but notice that the tips of his ears have turned pink.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” David grins. “Was that too forward of me to say? Here, in the literal kink dungeon?”

Patrick smirks across the table at him. “Technically, I think the dungeon is downstairs.” He casts an appraising look at David before adding, “And I’d like to head down there with you, if you’re interested.”

“Now who’s being forward?” David asks, but he’s already polishing off his whiskey and standing up. Patrick knocks back the last of his beer and follows him out the door, but when he turns towards the stairs David stops him. 

“I brought a few things with me,” he explains at Patrick’s questioning look, guiding him towards the lockers. When they get there he pulls the bag out quickly, not missing the way Patrick’s eyes widen at the size of the duffel. 

“Have you used an actual whip before?” David asks absently as he unzips the bag. 

“Um, no,” Patrick says. “Just crops and paddles.”

“Mmkay.” He passes over his whip — it is definitely not to be wielded by a first-timer — and pulls out the next best thing, a very pricey horsehair flogger he picked up in New York years ago. It packs a hell of a sting when used well, and with those muscles that are threatening to escape his shirt, Patrick could  _ definitely _ use it well. He puts the rest of the bag back in the locker, peeling off his leather jacket and storing that as well.

“That’s a nice jacket, by the way,” Patrick says from behind him.

“Thanks,” David says without turning around. “It’s Rick Owens.”

“Oh, that’s who you borrowed it from?”

David freezes before spinning to face him.  _ “Please _ tell me you’re kidding,” he says, pained. Patrick just smiles enigmatically. 

As they make their way back to the stairs in companionable silence, David notices that Patrick makes no effort to stop their arms brushing together in the narrow space. He also holds the door to the stairwell open and gestures for David to go ahead of him, which is surprisingly gallant, and David has to tuck his lips behind his teeth to hide his smile. 

“Public room or private?” David asks as they reach the bottom of the stairs. 

Patrick glances at him as he pulls the door open. “I’d prefer private, but if you want—”

“No, private’s great,” David hurries to assure him. 

“Good,” Patrick says as they walk down the non-observation end of the hallway in search of an open room. “Safeword?”

“Traffic light system okay with you?”

“Yeah, that works — oh, here’s one,” Patrick says, opening the door to one of the rooms. For the third time that night, he lets David go through first before pulling the door closed behind them both. 

“Can I—” Patrick starts hesitantly. When David turns around he’s holding out a hand, and it takes a second to realise what he’s asking. When he does, though, David hands over the flogger without a word.

“This is nice,” Patrick says appreciatively, swishing it through the air a few times, getting a feel for the weight. “I haven’t seen something like this before.”

“Mm, it came from a specialist store,” David replies. “You’re not going to see one of these in your local flavoured-lube-and-fluffy-handcuffs shop.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was speaking to an aficionado,” Patrick says, and David smirks at him.

“The giant bag of toys didn’t give it away?”

“Fair enough,” Patrick laughs. “So… how do you want to do this?”

David glances around the room before his eyes zero in on the table off to one side, restraints affixed to each corner. He gestures over at it, and Patrick’s eyes light up.

“Looks good,” he says, walking over to it and placing the flogger gently on the table. While his back is turned, David peels his shirt over his head and toes off his shoes, placing them carefully on a shelf. Patrick turns back around just as he’s undoing his jeans and puts the heels of his hands on the table, leaning his weight back as he watches. The attention would normally make David feel self-conscious but Patrick’s biting his lip and his eyes are dark, and it makes David feel… brave. He shimmies out of his jeans and briefs in one quick motion and catches his socks in his hands as he pulls them off. He breaks eye contact to turn and add them to the pile of his clothes, and when he looks back Patrick has stepped away from the table and is unbuttoning his shirt, his shoes apparently kicked off haphazardly and flung into the corner.

David moves past him towards the table, bending over it carefully with his legs straight and just a little apart. He’s braced for the cold but it still makes him suck in a breath, and he holds himself still while he warms back up. When Patrick comes to stand back in front of him he’s still in his jeans, and David has a sudden wild urge to trace the sparse trail of hair stretching down from his navel with his tongue, find out where it leads.

“Do you want…” Patrick trails off and gestures at the restraints.

“Yes please,” David says quietly, and Patrick grins at him. He fastens a restraint to each wrist, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he checks the tightness of them. He walks around the table until he’s out of David’s line of sight, and so it’s a surprise to feel a hand brush down his back, sending sparks shooting down his spine, before it comes to rest on his hip. 

“That’s so good, David,” Patrick murmurs, and David can’t suppress the full-body shiver that runs through him at the words, nor is he quick enough to swallow back the whimper that slips past his lips. He senses Patrick go perfectly still behind him and he squeezes his eyes shut. He should have been able to contain his reaction better; it was too much, too needy, too— 

_ “God, _ David,  _ yes,” _ Patrick rushes out on an exhale. “You look so good, you’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you? You’re going to stay right there, let me give you what you need?”

The warmth of Patrick’s praise courses through him, making his toes curl. “I can be good for you,” he whispers. 

Patrick makes a small sound of acknowledgement, deep in his throat. “You already are,” he says simply, and God, the sincerity in his voice could ruin David if he let it. He blinks quickly to stop the pricking at the corners of his eyes and wiggles teasingly to lighten the moment.

Patrick chuckles low in his throat. “Impatient, are we?”

David’s in no mood for teasing. “Patrick,  _ please,” _ he begs, and Patrick strokes a hand down one thigh. 

“It’s okay, David, I’ve got you,” Patrick soothes. “How many do you want?”

David opens his mouth, closes it again. Really thinks.

“Twenty,” he says after a moment, and Patrick makes a soft sound of surprise.

“That many?” he asks carefully.

“Absolutely.” It’s not the most David’s ever taken, but it’s up there; if it’s going to be a while before he gets this again, he wants to make it memorable.

“Okay, David.” And then David catches his breath as Patrick trails one finger horizontally right where he’s bending. He’s not hard, exactly, but there’s definitely fullness and his dick twitches with interest at the touch. A moment later Patrick repeats the movement but lower, a few inches above the back of David’s knees. 

“Is that a good hitting zone?” Patrick asks him softly. 

“Perfect.”

“Yeah,” Patrick whispers, and although it seems to be just an acknowledgement it makes David shiver nonetheless. “You ready to start?”

“So ready,” David says, and wiggles again for good measure, getting the same throaty laugh as before.

“Good,” Patrick says, and his voice is much firmer now, but there’s still the warmth running underneath it. “David, I want you to count, okay? So I can hear you.”

“Uh-huh.” And then he hears the telltale sound of a flogger moving through the air and braces himself, but there’s nothing. He lets out a huff of frustration and Patrick laughs. 

“Just seeing if I could get you to beg again,” he says, and that simple request breaks a dam David didn’t even know was there. 

“Please, Patrick,” he starts. “I need this so fucking bad, need you to do this for me, I need to feel it, please,  _ please.” _ He’s almost whining by the end but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, because there’s a swish and a crack and then heat blooming across one ass cheek. The rush of pain and pleasure and gratitude is so strong that it takes him a moment to remember what he’s supposed to be doing. 

“One,” he gasps out. 

“Good boy,” Patrick murmurs, and David’s low groan at the words means he doesn’t hear the next hit coming until there’s a sharp sting right in the centre back of one thigh. 

“Two,” he yelps. 

Hits three, four, and five come one after another, spread over both legs. He counts, and Patrick praises, and it’s so, so good, better than David can remember it ever being.

“Colour?” Patrick asks from behind him. 

“Green, God, please don’t stop,” he babbles. 

“You’re doing so well, David,” Patrick says softly. “I’m so proud of you.” Overwhelmed, David lets his head fall onto the table, and Patrick starts again. 

The next few hits sting deliciously, and then Patrick manages to hit the exact same spot twice in quick succession. The “Ten!” that escapes David’s lips is almost a scream. There’s a pause, and he follows it up with a “Green, dammit” before Patrick can even ask. 

“All right, then,” Patrick chuckles. 

Number twelve strikes him right in the crease between his ass and his thigh and it’s that which makes David aware all at once that his cock is achingly, unbearably hard, trapped between the heat of his stomach and the cool surface. Suddenly it’s all he can focus on, the duality of sensation, and he stutters through counting the next few hits. There’s a pause, and a firm “I think not, David,” and it’s only then that he realises he’s been rutting slowly against the table. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, but he can feel the smile stretching his face. He lets his hips roll lazily, one more time, and then Patrick’s hand is on his lower back, pressing him into the table and keeping him there. 

“You’ve been so good, David,” Patrick says, a warning in his voice. “Don’t stop now, you’re so close.” 

“Yes, I am,” David mutters, and Patrick laughs as he moves his hand away. 

Swish and hit, swish and hit, one at the top of each ass cheek. 

“Sixteen,” David groans. “Seventeen.”

The next two are on the outside of each thigh, and David finds himself straining against his restraints. 

“Eighteen, nineteen, please, Patrick, please—”

The last second seems to hang in the air before he hears the flogger moving towards him. The smacking sound hits his ears a moment before he feels it — somehow Patrick has managed a swing that hits across both sides of his ass, and the spreading pain is delicious. 

“Twenty,” he chokes out, half a sob and half a gasp. He feels hazy, like he’s floating, and he’s barely aware of Patrick appearing in front of him to release his wrists, running his fingers over each hand in turn, bending and flexing his fingers. 

“Can you stay where you are for one more minute, David?” Patrick asks, voice soft, and David just nods vaguely. He assumes Patrick wants to come on him somewhere so he’s surprised when he walks away, towards the cupboards at the back of the room. 

He closes his eyes and lets his forehead rest on the table, savouring the coolness, so he starts a little when he feels Patrick’s hand on his hip. Then something cold is being rubbed onto his ass, and he sucks in a breath. 

“Wha—” he mumbles, lifting his head even though he knows he can’t see anything. 

“Antiseptic cream,” Patrick answers his unarticulated question as he digs his fingers in. 

“Oh,” David says, disoriented. “Look, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Patrick interrupts him. “David, just — let me take care of you, okay?”

Suddenly, inexplicably, David wants to cry. He focuses instead on steadying his breathing as Patrick moves deft fingers over his thighs, rubbing the cream in everywhere the flogger struck. Then he’s pulling David to his feet and it’s only then that he’s aware that he’s still hard, throbbing almost painfully between them. 

“You were so good, David,” Patrick says softly, running his thumb achingly gently along David’s cheek. “I knew you could do it, and God, you took it so well. So I’m going to give you two options, and you can decide how you come.”

David swallows desperately, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in his mouth. “Thank you,” he croaks after a moment, and a slow smile spreads across Patrick’s face. 

“Option one,” Patrick starts. “I wrap my hand around this gorgeous dick” — he strokes one feather-light finger along the underside of David’s cock, collecting some of the wetness pooling at the tip — “and stroke it nice and slow, take my time, watch you come apart.” His voice is so casually steady, as if he’s offering something as benign as takeout options, but his eyes are blazing as he sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, groaning quietly as he tastes. It’s enough to make David feel a little wild; he wants Patrick to watch him with those beautiful eyes while jerking him off, and the mental image is so intense he almost misses it when Patrick continues. 

“Option two, you get down on your knees, put that pretty mouth to good use, and get yourself off while my cock is down your throat.”

David has to dig his fingernails into the heels of his hands to stop himself coming just from the words. The first option sounds unbelievably hot, but it’s absolutely no contest. He drops to his knees automatically, wincing slightly as they hit the concrete and remind him that he’s not in his twenties anymore. The move brings him eye level with Patrick’s groin and David blatantly licks his lips; his jeans are tenting in an absolutely obscene manner and the sight is somehow ten times more erotic than if he were naked. He looks up at Patrick to find him staring back, a tiny bit of his maddening control finally stripped away in his expression. 

“Thank you, David,” Patrick whispers, and David is confused because he is  _ absolutely _ not the one who needs to be thanked in this situation. His bewilderment must show on his face, because Patrick continues quickly.

“I was really hoping you’d pick this option,” he admits. “I’ve been wanting to get you on your knees since I laid eyes on you tonight; I knew you’d look like this, gorgeous and compliant and eager for it. You’re so good, David, you’re — you are the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice is raw and wrung out and he’s looking at David like he wants to see inside his soul; David has to break eye contact under the intensity of it. He sets to work on Patrick’s fly instead, easing it open before shifting the layers of fabric just enough to finally free his cock from those godawful jeans. 

Patrick’s dick is a mouthwatering sight — literally; David can feel it pooling under his tongue. He’s never wanted to wrap his lips around something more; he lets his jaw drop and his tongue hang out. He can feel some spit slide across his bottom lip, knows he looks sloppy and desperate and doesn’t care, not when Patrick is looking down at him like that, pupils blown but otherwise unfairly composed. 

“You can do better,” Patrick says firmly. When David blinks in confusion, Patrick taps one knee lightly with his toe and David takes the hint, spreading his legs further apart until he can feel a slight burn in his thighs. He straightens his back for good measure and is rewarded with a brilliant smile. 

“That’s perfect, David, you’re perfect,” he says softly. Then he’s walking away and David whines, but it’s okay, he’s just grabbing a condom from the club supply, deftly rolling it on even as he walks back to where he was. When Patrick is standing in front of him again he winds his fingers through David’s hair, giving it a light pull as he finally,  _ finally _ guides his cock into David’s waiting mouth. David moans frantically at the slide of the latex along his tongue; he would be embarrassed at how desperate he sounds if not for the fact that Patrick lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a scream like it’s being ripped out of him. David looks up expecting Patrick’s eyes to be closed but they’re wide open, staring down at David as though he’s some kind of revelation. 

“You look so fucking good, David — touch yourself, I want you to come just like this,” Patrick whispers, voice ragged. The tugging on David’s scalp increases as his lips are fucked up and down around Patrick’s dick and his chin is wet with drool; his hand flies to his cock and even through a haze of relief at the sensation he realises Patrick is testing how far he can push himself in. He lets his throat relax and on Patrick’s next thrust his cock hits the back of David’s throat and down until his face is pressed against Patrick’s abdomen. And David’s choking on dick and can taste nothing but latex and his nose is buried in pubic hair and it’s so much, just the right side of too much, and then Patrick pulls  _ hard _ on his hair and David’s crying out but of course it’s muffled and then he comes all over himself, comes and comes and comes, harder than he can ever remember. 

_ “David,” _ Patrick cries out brokenly as he pulls out, yanking off the condom and fisting his cock, his hand a blur of frenetic movement. David lets his eyes fall close and his tongue loll out and it’s mere seconds before he feels Patrick explode all over his tongue. When he’s finished, David has to swallow twice to get it all down. 

For a few moments, the only sound is their combined harsh breathing as they recover. Almost before David realises what’s happening he’s being pulled gently to his feet, and then Patrick is framing David’s face in his hands and kissing him soundly. And David’s been kissed a lot during a scene, and a few times before one, but never once has someone kissed him in a sex club after they’ve already come. He lets out a startled but not unhappy yelp and Patrick takes the opportunity to plunge his tongue into David’s now-open mouth, chasing the taste of himself, making them both groan. Finally Patrick releases him with one last, almost chaste, kiss. He drops one hand but leaves the other on David’s cheek, gazing carefully at him, his face soft and open.

“I’ve never done that before, with a guy,” Patrick confesses after a moment of silence. 

David raises an eyebrow, quirks a lip. “The flogging or the blowjob?”

“Uh,” Patrick scratches the back of his head as he flushes slightly. “Both? But also, um.” His eyes flicker down to David’s lips and back up, and David gives a soft little  _ Oh _ of understanding. 

“Baby dom  _ and _ baby gay, huh?”

“I take offence to baby dom,” Patrick asks, and the affronted tone is belied by the teasing tilt to his smile.

“Mm-hmm. First time in a kink club? You’re a baby dom. I don’t make the rules. And for what it’s worth, you were very good at both. Your promotion will be considered.”

Patrick laughs out loud. “Okay, David,” he says, reaching for his shirt and pulling it back on. David furrows his brow. 

“You’re not going to shower?” he asks. 

Patrick shrugs as he fumbles with the buttons. “Don’t really need to. I’m not the one who got messy.”

David huffs. “Mm. Pretty sure my messiness was your fault, actually.”

“Well then, I should definitely let you shower,” Patrick laughs. He pushes his feet into his shoes before coming back over to put his hands on David’s shoulders and kiss him gently on the cheek. He’s fully clothed and David is still completely naked and — well. That shouldn’t be as hot as it is. 

“I, uh, I had a really good time with you tonight,” Patrick says. “Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you,” _ David replies, and means it fiercely. He feels more settled in his own skin than he has since moving to Schitt’s Creek — or for several years before that, if he’s being completely honest with himself. He can’t remember ever coming out of a scene feeling this floaty and taken care of and  _ seen. _ It’s a heady sensation. 

“Do you—” Patrick cuts himself off with a bark of laughter. “Oh God, I really just had to stop myself saying  _ do you come here often.” _

“And yet somehow you still did,” David points out. “And, uh, not really. This is a few hours’ drive for me, so… special occasions only, I guess. What about you? Planning to come back now you’ve had a taste?”

“I’m not sure I’m staying in the city,” Patrick says softly. “I have no idea where I’m headed next, but… I think I need to get away for a bit, figure myself out.”

There’s a long silence. David desperately wants to see him again; wants to ask him for his number, would do this stupid drive again and again if it meant Patrick would keep making him feel the way he feels right now. 

But Patrick has just said he needs to figure himself out, and David can respect that. 

“I really hope I run into you again sometime, Patrick,” he says finally. 

Patrick jams his hands deep into his pockets, a rueful little smile twisting his lips. “Likewise.”

It’s clear they both know how unlikely that is.

* * *

Five weeks later, David signs the lease for the general store. The bombshell that his galleries were financed by his parents fills him with doubt and self-recrimination, but when it gets too much he closes his eyes, thinks of Patrick saying, “I knew you could do it,” and chooses to believe it. 

Two weeks after that, he goes to Ray’s to file his incorporation paperwork and finds himself staring into a pair of familiar brown eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


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